


The Feeling's Bittersweet

by AsymmetricalButterfly



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2020-09-06 05:31:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20286202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsymmetricalButterfly/pseuds/AsymmetricalButterfly
Summary: Nick and Stef are only just beginning to get a feel for each other in Washington...





	1. Chapter One

Taking a swig from his water bottle, Nick turned his head slightly to look at his practice partner from the corner of his eye. An hour of intense hitting and not a drop of sweat on him, his hair perfectly held in place by the black hair band, the muscles in his arm tensing slightly as he lifted his own water bottle to his mouth. Imperceptibly, Nick’s view shifted to his own arm which had a deep sheen of sweat covering it. Man, he needed to work on his cardio. That and _many_ other things. Still, he was sat here after one of the most thorough training sessions of his life with a man he’d barely exchanged a single word with prior to their hit. It was a start.

“Ajla?” Stef said, nodding to the tattoo on Nick’s wrist.

Nick looked at the tattoo groaned, “Yeah. Word of advice - don’t ever get an inking when you fall in love. It’s just begging for regret.”

He _had_ been in love, assuredly so. Getting a tattoo to prove his love and commitment to her had been a step he’d wanted to take, as much as he’d been faced with opposition from everybody he knew. When he’d first made the appointment with the artist he always used for his inkings, his Mum had called and cancelled before giving him a lecture about “young love” that would have a less stubborn person turning to a life of celibacy until they hit thirty. Proving her and them all wrong had held some appeal, he must admit, only now he’d proven them right and was stuck with the constant reminder of what an arrogant idiot he could be. As if he didn’t get that enough.

“It must be a tough reminder,” Stef said simply.

“Nah, I don’t really care about that. Puts other people off like crazy though,” Nick admitted.

Stef nodded and took another sip from his water bottle, staring ahead at the rows of practice courts ahead of them. Although Nick had found being in Stef’s company, and the company of his extended family and team, far easier than he could have imagined, sustaining a conversation with the man himself wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Clearly he saved his words for the philosophical crap he posted on Twitter.

“Is it your...special time hand?”

Bottle to his mouth, Nick inhaled a mouthful of water and spluttered as he turned to look at Stef in, struggling to believe what he was hearing. The countenance hadn’t shifted one bit, but there was a new amusement in the eyes that were still looking ahead at the practice courts before them. Briefly, Nick looked around at Stef’s team to see if they’d heard anything, but they were still deeply in discussion at the far end of the court; Stef had kept it quiet enough for it to only be audible to Nick.

“I actually cannot believe that Stefanos Tsitsipas just asked me that,” Nick said, laughing and shaking his head.

“Nobody’s ever asked you that before?”

“Literally nobody.”

“What? It seems...obvious to me,” Stef said, his face breaking out into a grin.

“And you wonder why I give you so much shit on Twitter,” Nick chuckled.

Another smile played around Stef’s lips as he opened his mouth to speak again, but they were interrupted by Apostolos approaching them with a racket in his hand which he passed to Stef before uttering a few words to him in Greek. As a child, Nick’s parents had tried their best to develop a fluency in Greek in him, but his short attention span was never going to allow for another language when there was basketball to be played. From the few scraps he could remember, he ascertained that they would be heading off for lunch and he’d finally be free from the rigorous drills he’d been subjected to under Apostolos’ tutelage.

The man himself held out his hand to Nick, “You have a good game.”

“Yeah, I’ve been known to win the odd match or two,” Nick commented cheekily.

Apostolos chuckled, “Tonight with my son, I hope.”

“We’ll blow ‘em off the court,” Nick commented.

Beside him, Stef had begun packing up his racket bag but paused to shoot him a smile at this statement. Seeing him face on, no longer just a profile with the hint of a smile, Nick was drawn to the creases around his eyes and the softness it filled them with. Seeing him so unguarded was...different. It was a different that he wanted to feel again, to take a second glimpse at those eyes so enticing and filled with amusement.

As Stef slung his bag over his back and offered a hand to Nick, he cleared his throat and heaved himself up on the offered hand, realising that he needed to get his ass into gear as the court was no doubt scheduled to be used by another player. Slinging the four now damp towels he’d worked his way through during their practice over his shoulder, he picked up his bag and paused, watching Stef’s easy stride to the gate at the side of the court.

“Stef?”

Stef stopped to look at Nick, his body half turned towards him, polite interest registered on his face as he looked back at Nick.

“It’s the other hand.”

There was a moment, then recognition flickering across Stef’s face. For the first time, Nick heard Stefanos Tsitsipas laugh, a laugh that only they understood, and he was hooked.


	2. Chapter Two

“I mean, what are the chances of getting the top seeds in the first round? We’d have beat literally any other doubles team today,” Nick said, before taking another mouthful of spaghetti.

“Perhaps the tournament wanted to make sure we had an easy excuse if we were not enjoying playing together?” Stef offered with a smile.

Nick appeared to consider this information thoughtfully while chewing, tilting his head from side-to-side before nodding in agreement. To Stef it still felt unbelievable that they could be dining together on Italian food, a table for two, even sharing a bottle of wine. Nick had made it firmly apparent that he was not normally a wine drinker (“I usually just have a beer, bro”), but Stef had been insistent that Chablis would best complement the carbonara that they had both settled on for their choice of dinner. He’d noted the hint of mockery in Nick’s eyes as he’d taken this information in but, to his credit, he’d refrained from making a wisecrack at Stef’s expense for his knowledge of wines and their suitability to pasta dishes. It was the latest step in the leaps of progress they’d made over the last twenty-four hours. 

“What you thinking for dessert?” Nick asked, sliding his spoon and fork together on the empty plate.

Stef waved his hand, “None for me.”

“Mate, you cannot bring to this fancy restaurant, force me to drink wine and then leave me to eat dessert on my own. It’s just not happening.”

“I never have dessert the night before a match!” He explained, apologetically.

“Well I’m at least getting two spoons so I don’t look like a fat loser eating dessert on my own.”

“That’s...acceptable,” Stef said with a laugh.

The waiter appeared at their table to remove their dishes and Stef looked on as Nick ordered his semifreddo al torrone with pronunciation that certainly did not resemble any Italian that Stef had heard in his life, much to his quiet amusement. When asking for an extra spoon, Nick was sure to place the emphasis on “two”, all while keeping his eyes on Stef to make sure he didn’t put up any protestation. He needn’t have worried though as Stef was quietly enjoying indulging Nick and teasing out the softer side to his personality that he hadn’t seen before. The confidence was still there, but there was also so much fun and openness to him that it was impossible not to feel relaxed and simply enjoy being in his company. 

Before their match, he’d felt so nervous. Nervous of wanting to impress Nick, nervous of wanting to make it a good match given the tournament director’s investment in bringing them together and, as it became more apparent with each passing game, nervous of not having a reason to be in Nick Kyrgios’ orbit. With each smile and word of encouragement from Nick though, he found his footing and actually enjoyed himself. For the first time in his career, the result had been secondary to the enjoyment he’d found simply in playing and by the end of the match his enjoyment and assuredness were both so sky high that he knew he’d asking Nick to have dinner with him and, equally, he knew that Nick would say yes.

“What do you think of the wine?” Stef asked.

“Honestly?” 

“Of course!”

“Like, I know it’s meant to “go with the meal” and everything, but all I’m getting is paint stripper.”

“Have you ever tasted paint stripper?” Stef challenged.

“Well, no, but my Dad’s a decorator and I’ve spent enough time inhaling that stuff to get an idea.”

“You weren’t tempted to follow in his footsteps?”

“Risk covering up these good looks with plaster dust and paint?” Nick said, flashing him a lazy smile.

“The decorating world’s loss is tennis’ gain,” Stef said, returning the smile.

“Yeah, I’m not sure many people would agree with you there.”

Before Stef could respond, rebuking Nick for his words, they were interrupted by their waiter placing the dish of semifreddo al torrone between them, laying out two perfectly aligned spoons before departing from the table, leaving them to it once more. Nick picked up his spoon and twirled it in his fingers, looking at Stef expectantly.

“It looks delicious,” Stef acknowledged.

“One mouthful. I won’t tell anybody if you don’t,” Nick dared.

Stef looked down at the dessert and bit his lip gently. It was tempting, the drizzle of chocolate sauce so elegantly teased across the firm, but fluffy nougat base. Normally temptation was so effortless, the slight raise of the hand in apology, the shake of the head, all knowing that it was the greater good of his career. Tonight though? All he could think about was the softness of the base melting on his tongue. It must have been the gentle glow of the wine coursing through his veins. Another occurrence that hadn’t previously featured on his pre-match preparation regime. With one last look at Nick, acknowledging his acceptance of the dare, he lifted a spoonful of the dessert to his mouth, closing his eyes as he bit into the hazelnut pieces. 

“That’s incredible,” He moaned.

“I am so tempted to post this on Instagram right now,” Nick teased.

“You could do that, but then I might eat all of your dessert before you get to try it,” Stef teased back.

With that, Nick dipped his own spoon into the dessert and lifted it to his lips, not breaking eye contact with Stef for a moment as he took the dessert into his mouth, pursing his lips slightly as he sucked on the cool base, the pleasure so clear on his face. Not for the first time during their meal together, Stef found his eyes drawn to Nick’s lips. The fullness of them, the ridge in his upper lip, the slight pout of his lower lip, the way he ran his tongue over them. It was hypnotic. Momentarily he found himself wondering what it would be like to… No. Not now. The thought stirred a memory though, something that had struck Stef, but he hadn’t felt bold enough to question at the time. He took another mouthful of dessert, allowing it to melt softly on his tongue while eyeing Nick.

“Earlier, you said ‘people’,” He said, shifting his gaze from Nick’s own.

“You’ve lost me, bro.” 

“You said that your tattoo, your Ajla one, puts ‘people’ off. Not girls,” Stef explained, a slight blush raising to his cheeks.

“Ah.”

He waited, giving Nick the chance to decide for himself if he wanted to share this confidence. From his simple response, he could guess what the truth was, but so early into their friendship he did not want to push the matter and put Nick in a position where he was uncomfortable. This meal, for them, had been good and to ruin that could undo the beginnings of something special.

“People,” Nick confirmed eventually.

Quietly surprised by how easily and how soon Nick had chosen to open this side of his life up to him, he offered Nick a small smile and raised his wine glass to his lips, taking a mouthful. With this gesture he hoped to convey his support and that this information would go no further than this meal and this table.

“Is that why you asked me to dinner?” Nick asked.

Stef looked at him sharply. The daring was back in his tone, challenging Stef, urging him into dangerous territory. Had he asked him two hours ago, it would have been an easy “no”, brushed aside as a thought as quickly as it came. Two hours later and he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to invite Nick for dinner anymore. Not that he was prepared to admit that yet. 

“Of course not. I wanted to get to know you better. That’s all.”

“Dinner for two with wine recommendations? You do that with every guy you just want to get to know better?” The amusement was pouring off Nick’s words.

“I thought it would be fun to do something away from tennis,” Stef shrugged.

The smirk accompanied by a slow nod strongly suggested that Nick wasn’t fully convinced, but Stef wasn’t going to let him get under his skin so easily. The saying went that the chase was part of the thrill and he felt a rush of adrenaline as he realised that Nick had taken his question as an invite to commence the chase. With the question of whether he would allow himself to be chased hanging between them, Nick slid his spoon under the final piece of semifreddo al torrone that was melting in the centre of the dish and lifted it. This time though, he twisted the spoon so that it was offered to Stef’s lips rather than his own. After a moment, Stef tentatively tilted his head forward and not only accepted the final mouthful, but the challenge of being chased. 

Nick grinned and twirled the spoon in his fingers once more, “What other _fun_ things do you like to do away from tennis?”

He deliberately chose not to take the bait, “I enjoy photography.”

“I’m down for that,” Nick said, his voice laced with innuendo.

“Do you think that you would make a good model for me?” Stef said, his tone matching Nick’s.

“Do you?”

Stef smiled, “Maybe.”

“Perhaps you could come back to my room and we could try out a few _positions_, see if we can get the right shot.”

“I’ll get the bill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will be alternating between Nick and Stef's perspectives. They're such different people that I thought it would make for a more rounded take on their relationship.


	3. Chapter Three

Fumbling in the darkness, Nick finally located his phone on the shelf beside his bed and blinked against the brightness of the screen as switched it on. 00:37. Not as late, or early rather, as he’d thought. He dropped the phone back on the shelf and rolled over in bed, snaking his arm around the waist of the man sharing his bed and allowing his face to rest in the nest of golden curls on the pillow. He inhaled and smiled drowsily. Since their first training session a couple of days ago, he’d been obsessed with how good Stef smelled. It didn’t matter what he was engaging in or the level of exertion required, and there had been a _lot_ of exertion of the last few days, it was always this intoxicating. 

“You’re doing it again,” Stef murmured softly.

“Doing what?” 

“Smelling me.”

“You smell too good. I can’t help it,” Nick admitted.

Stef shifted away from Nick’s arm, before turning over so that they were facing and their noses were touching in the dark. Entwining his right leg between Nick’s, he leant in softly to peck Nick on the lips, lingering for a moment. Even in the dark, Nick could sense the smile of Stef’s face and couldn’t get over how devastatingly sexy and addictive one man’s smile could be to him. It scared him more than he was perhaps even prepared to admit to himself.

It had been five nights. Five glorious nights of sharing this bed and sharing their bodies. That first night together still felt like a blur to him. After leaving the restaurant, they’d barely exchanged a word, barely even looked at each other as they’d shared a cab, both purposefully staring through the window for the duration. The second the hotel room had closed though, he’d come undone, lost in the midst of wine-fuelled lust and sexual exploration. To his surprise, he had awoken to find Stef still beside him in bed, but even then he hadn’t even entertained the possibility that there’d be a second night, nevermind a third, fourth and fifth.

That was four days ago and now he found himself wondering how he’d readjust to not having Stef in his bed, such a natural fixture he’d allowed him to become. Getting tonight felt like a bonus, he had been so certain that Stef would need to give him a wide berth after their match. When he’d returned to the locker room after his on-court interview, Stef had already cleared out and Nick had tried to convince himself that he wasn’t bothered and that it was only ever going to be a short-term thing anyway. All that conviction had fallen apart when Stef had showed up two hours ago, removing his clothes before the door even clicked behind them.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Stef asked softly.

“Too wired.”

“Too wired?”

“Too...awake, pumped.”

“Because you beat me?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Nick admitted.

“I’ll have to beat you next time to see how it feels,” Stef said after a pause.

Hearing the teasing tone in Stef’s voice, Nick laughed softly before letting silence fall upon them. Even though they were at the stage where Stef could make jokes about it, he’d seen his face and the disappointment scrawled across it when they shook hands and thought it probably for the best not to push the subject further. If this was their last night together then he wasn’t going to ruin it by winding Stef up and tainting the memory of whatever this was with. Stef could post as much spiritual stuff on Twitter as he wanted, the stroppy twenty-year old who didn’t like losing probably wasn’t too far from the surface.

“What do you usually do when you’re feeling ‘wired’?” Stef asked.

Nick sighed and thought for a moment, “Play video games, listen to music…”

“Let’s listen to music together,” Stef said eagerly.

“Listen to music together?” Nick queried.

“You can show me what kind of music you like.”

In the darkness, Nick looked at the darkened, blurry outline of Stef on the pillow for a few seconds before turning over and reaching for his phone once more, scooping up his headphones with it. Stretching out his shoulder into his pillow, he inserted the headphones into his phone and offered one to Stef, taking in the structure of his face, illuminated by the light on his phone. Even with his eyes squinting against the glare of the light, the sleepiness etched across his face, just looking at him filled Nick with an enticing sense of yearning. 

Drawing himself away from Stef’s face, he opened the Spotify app on his phone and began scrolling through his Foundation Dreamz playlist. Opening up his music collection to Stef was the most nervous he’d felt in his company since that first night together. With his mates, listening to music from their various collections was a regular occurrence; with Stef, it felt like he was giving him a little insight into himself as a person and he was particularly keen that it wouldn’t be a negative one.

Beside him, Stef brought his head down to rest on his shoulder, giving him a clear look at the screen in Nick’s hand, his breath softly tickling against Nick’s chest. Nick continued scrolling back and forth through his playlist, before finally settling on the first song that had struck him as a possibility.

_It’s on the rumour mill, the word is on the street,  
I don’t know how to feel about what you say to me…_

For the first time since he was a teenager riding along on packed coaches to tournaments, he was tilting his head to share music through one pair of headphones. Back then all the guys on the coach had been very keen to ensure there was an appropriate distance between their heads at all tonight, but tonight Nick leaned his head to the side slightly so that he was resting against Stef’s head while they listened to the flow of music. As the music built to the chorus, Nick felt Stef shift and begin to nod his head very slightly to the beat of the music.

“It’s very...you,” Stef said, as the chorus shifted to the second verse.

“Very me?”

“The line, ‘I don’t even care about what they say’ is very you. Is that why you like it?” Stef asked, his tone displaying his genuine interest.

“I guess. Never really thought about it that way before. I just think it’s a sick beat.”

“It is a sick beat, as you say, but I’ve seen you say the same things in your press conferences, about rumours and not caring.”

Nick laughed, “I totally should have known that you’d find some big meaning behind it. It’s just a song, bro.”

“Η μουσική δίνει μια ψυχή στο σύμπαν, φτερά στο μυαλό, πτήση στη φαντασία και τη ζωή σε όλα,” Stef replied.

It was the first time that Stef had spoken Greek directly to him and it intrigued him. Aside from being ridiculously sexy, it was an insight into the Stef that existed in his home life. The Stef who wasn’t forced to speak in his second language just to make it possible for them to communicate, verbally anyway. A few words were familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite form the overall meaning.

“You’re gonna have to translate that one for me.”

“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything. It’s Plato.”

“Of course it is,” Nick groaned, “I literally can’t think of any other tennis player who’d use Plato as pillow talk.”

“Maybe that is why I am so irresistible to you?” Stef teased.

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” Nick teased back.

At this, Stef nuzzled in closer to Nick, dipping his head to kiss the ridge of his shoulder lightly as he did so. Acting purely on instinct in response to the gesture, Nick reached for Stef’s hand under the covers and, on finding it, threaded his fingers through Stef’s. The feeling of just being together like this in bed, naked, teasing and intimate was just as intoxicating to him as the sex was. The sex was incredible, but it was these moments of lying together afterwards that were beginning to be the moments he enjoyed and looked forward to the most. 

Beginning just as it was coming to an end. 

As the thought struck him, he withdrew from Stef slightly and wrapped his headphones around his phone, tossing it on the floor with a thud. Beside him, no doubt sensing the shift in his mood, he felt Stef prop himself up on his elbow to get a closer look at Nick through the darkness for an explanation.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Nick said.

“You’re no longer wired?” 

“No.”

“You’re upset at me? Because of Plato?”

Nick couldn’t help but laugh at this statement, “No. I mean, yeah, it’s still like completely insane that you actually remember that stuff, but that’s not why I’m upset.”

“You are upset?”

“Yeah. No. Oh, I dunno. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I want to know why you are upset. Is it something I’ve done?” 

In the face of the concern and fear in Stef’s voice, he just couldn’t maintain the space that he’d tried to create between them in the bed and reached for Stef’s hand again, running his thumb over Stef’s index finger.

“Do you wanna know the truth?” He asked, nerves breaking his voice slightly.

“Of course.”

Nick took a breath, “This week has been amazing and I’m kinda vexed that it’s over.”

“You still have the final to play,” Stef said softly.

“I’m not talking about the tennis. I’m talking about this. You and me.”

Seconds passed before Stef said, “Why does it have to be over?”

“Because you’ve got to get back to being Mr Uber Professional and I don’t want to be a bad influence who fucks up your career,” Nick confessed.

“Is it not for me to decide if my boyfriend is a bad influence who fucks up my career?” 

Nick took a moment to let the words sink in, “Boyfriend?”

“Is that not what you want?”

He hadn’t even allowed his mind to go there and consider that question. Like any supposedly professional tennis player, he’d taken each day at a time, grateful as each one came along without daring to assume that it would or could be something more serious. Lying here with Stef moulded into his bed, finally opening himself up to that question, it became instantly obvious what the answer was. 

“Yes,” admitted Nick, then adding with a grin, “If you promise never to recite Plato to me again.”

“I’ll do that if for you if you promise to beat Daniil in the final tomorrow night.”

“Deal.”


	4. Chapter Four

_Bad things be spreading ‘round,_  
_No, no, let it go, just turn it down,_  
_Either way I’m coming ‘round,_  
_Can’t tell me, won’t turn me down_

Stef removed the headphones from his ears and toss them across the room, ignoring the clatter they made as they hit the wall. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d heard those same lyrics over the past week, his fingers always finding their way back to the screen to hit the repeat button. When the song wasn’t being streamed from his phone, it was constantly there, playing in his mind. It had become his closest companion, closer even that the man that had first played it to him.

He thought back to Washington, the bubble they’d created there, and he sighed. Everything had been so effortless there. It had been just the two of them, him sneaking to Nick’s hotel room after everybody else had gone to bed, lying there for hours in bed while they talked, listened to music and enjoyed the most spine-tingling sexual experiences of Stef’s life. Even losing hadn’t torn at his soul the way it usually did. It had been...perfect. For those few days in Washington, everything had been perfect.

The bubble couldn’t last forever though, there were too many demands on their time, too many people who needed a piece of them too, and the bubble had burst with an alarming pop when Stef found himself sharing a private jet not only with his boyfriend, but Daniil Medvedev too. The worst bit? Nick had seemed just as interested in sharing his conversation and laughter with Daniil, leaving Stef to slowly descend into a gloom as he listened to Nick going into great detail about the respect he had for Daniil’s game. On landing, as they retrieved their bags from the hold, Nick had teased him, telling him that “bullshit Russians” weren’t his type and it was only then that Stef had allowed his mood to improve. That was only the beginning though and, over the next week and a half, it had begun to dawn on Stef how much his mood depended on his new boyfriend.

Asking Nick to join him, his family and his team for his birthday celebrations had been a stretch, but he’d asked him anyway allowing optimism to dictate his senses. Perhaps the rejection wouldn’t have hurt so much if it hadn’t come with the excuse that he’d promised to play basketball with “some of the guys”. Now he had to struggle with not only the rejection, but that he was second best to the “guys” who, he couldn’t help but notice, he hadn’t been invited to hang out with. As much as he’d tried to hide it, smiling and engaging throughout his celebratory meal, his evening hadn’t really burst into colour until he heard a tap at the door much later that night. He’d opened it to find Nick leaning casually against the doorframe, a garish purple gift bag in his hand.

“Χαρούμενα γενέθλια,” Nick said, wishing Stef a happy birthday with a soft smile.

“I’ve never heard you speak Greek before,” Stef beamed.

“I know, my Dad would probably like keel over if he heard me.”

“He’s Greek, yes?”

“Yeah, tried to teach us Greek when we were kids. I wish I’d listened now,” Nick said, with a grin in Stef’s direction.

“Is that for me?” Stef said, nodding at the bag.

“No, I normally carry a sparkly purple bag around hotels with me,” Nick said smoothly.

Stef’s brow furrowed for a moment before he connected the dots, “You’re being sarcastic again.”

Throwing him another grin, Nick kicked his shoes off and laid out on the bed, patting the bed beside him with an assured look in his eye. Stef took his place beside Nick on the bed, waiting expectantly to see what presents Nick had bought for him. Without breaking eye contact, Nick reached into the bag and withdrew a small gift. The quality of the wrapping left a lot to be desired, with torn edges and bunched up tape, but Stef smiled nevertheless as he tore through it. Laughing, he lifted the length of white shoelace into the air.

“A useful present,” Stef commented.

“I couldn’t fit Leander Paes into the bag, sorry.”

Stef rolled his eyes at Nick as he accepted a second gift from Nick. This one was bigger, softer, although the wrapping was similarly haphazard. Intrigued, he squeezed at the contours of the gift before tearing the paper carefully so as not to damage the contents. From the paper, he pulled out a cuddly toy, or rather cuddly man with white fluffy hair, black hat and blue jacket. 

“George Washington,” Stef said softly, “Because of us?” 

“Yeah, I thought it would give you something to cuddle when I’m not here,” Nick said, a slight vulnerability in his tone.

Smiling, Stef smoothed the hair of the toy back and tried to find the words to show just how touched he was by the gesture. He’s expected something silly from Nick, something exactly like the shoelace, but to receive such a gift to reflect the beautiful memories that they had shared in Washington was beyond everything he’d hoped for. He pulled it into his chest and held it close.

“It’s perfect.”

That was then though. Tonight had been spent wincing as his boyfriend hurled even more abuse at the umpire, finally reaching for the remote as Nick paused his tirade to spit on the court. He’d known that Nick was volatile, that he reached boiling point and would do things on court that most professionals wouldn’t even consider. To see it unfold in real time when he actually cared was a different animal though. It enraged and shamed him, but still he couldn’t fight the longing to wrap Nick in his arms and take away the anger. He’d looked to music to lose himself, but after only three tracks he’d found his fingers taking him back to that song. Always that song. 

He looked across at the headphones, somehow still intact by the skirting board, aware of his own own fiery temper lurking beneath the surface. Greek heritage had a lot to answer for. He stood up to retrieve the headphones, but was stopped in his tracks by the chime of his phone.

'Need 2 get food. U up 4 meeting after?'

He idly ran his thumb over Nick’s name on his screen before tossing the phone back on the bed without replying. He couldn’t be around Nick right now, being together and acting normally, not after how he’d behaved in his match. Besides, for once it would be nice to be the one to keep Nick waiting on him and wondering when he’d next be able to fit him into his plans. After retrieving his headphones, he slipped back into bed with his book and tried to lose himself in the words across the pages. It wasn’t ten minutes before another message chimed on his phone.

'U busy?'

A smile formed around his lips at Nick’s impatience and persistence. Until tonight, no message had waited longer than two minutes to be replied to, so pleased he inevitably was to hear from Nick. That Nick had noticed and it was clearly bothering him was an undeniably pleasant feeling, he had to admit, as much as he wasn’t ready to engage with Nick yet. Less than five minutes passed this time before the next message appeared.

'U busy or pissed at me?'

This time he toyed with replying and got as far as typing the word “I” before deleting it and returning to his home screen. What could he even say anyway? That he was so disgusted by Nick’s outburst on court that he couldn’t be around him at the moment? How could he even put that into words without potentially destroying what they had? It had been two weeks, they still had so much to learn about each other and their limits. Tonight it was better to let things lie and see how he felt in the morning.

He jolted as his phone vibrated harshly on the bedside table, signalling an incoming phone call. Reaching to confirm that it was in fact Nick trying to contact him, he accidentally knocked the answer button with his phone, before quickly fumbling to end the call. His heart was racing in his chest. There was no pretending he’d been asleep or that his phone had been on silent now. Nick would know that he was avoiding speaking to him and that would open up a conversation that he had no idea how to navigate. He sat, cross legged, staring at the screen and waiting for a second phone call to come. It didn’t and the frustration clawed at him. Too long had passed now for him to pass it off as an accident and that was only going to make for an even more awkward conversation down the line.

Tap tap tap.

At the sound of the door, Stef jumped up from the bed and rushed to the door, the view through the peep hole revealing it was Nick waiting on the other side. He opened the door, plastering on his warmest smile, only to be met with Nick looking him up and down with disdain.

“Well at least now I know you’re not dead in a ditch,” Nick said, turning and walking back down the corridor.

Without time to dash back into his room for his key card, he removed his t-shirt in panic and tucked it in the door to stop it locking behind him as he ran down the corridor after Nick. When he caught up to Nick, he reached out to his arm but was brushed off with a forceful shrug. Not to be deterred, he stepped ahead of Nick and turned, putting his hands on his arms to stop him taking another step. Nick’s eyes met his own, flashing dark with anger, but then slipped down to Stef’s naked torso registering his confusion.

“What the -” Nick said.

“I had to stop my door closing,” Stef explained in exasperation.

Their eyes met, softening and they both burst into laughter, holding onto each other for support. Aware of the noise they were making, Stef tried to shush them both with a finger to his lips, but quickly found himself dissolving into another fit of giggles. Gradually, they came to their senses still holding onto each other for support.

“You’re actually crazy,” Nick said, shaking his head.

“I couldn’t let you leave,” Stef explained.

“But ghosting me is no problem?” Nick said, a sudden sharpness in his tone.

“I can explain that. Please. Just come back.” Stef pleaded.

Stef looked searchingly into Nick’s eyes, desperate to get through to him. Beneath his hands that remained on Nick’s biceps, he could feel the tension that was still coursing through Nick’s body. Gradually, Nick softened beneath his touch and nodded, turning to slouch back to the bedroom. At the door, he stopped and picked up the crinkled Adidas t-shirt before letting himself into the room and sitting on the bed, rubbing at the fabric of the t-shirt, staring into space. Stef chose to sit beside him on the bed, careful to leave a few inches of space between them. He considered reaching out and holding one of Nick’s hands in his own, but wary of Nick’s mood, he settled them on his own lap.

“I’m sorry,” He said.

“It’s fine, man,” Nick said hollowly.

“No, I am. I...was wrong not to answer your messages.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Stef hesitated, “I needed some time. Your match, it was difficult for me. To see you like that.”

For a moment, Nick said nothing, but then it came with a resigned sigh.

“You can do better than me.”

It was said so quietly that Stef took a moment to register what Nick had said at all. When it hit him, he instinctively dropped down before Nick on the floor and cupped his face with one hand. At first Nick refused to look at him, keeping his dipped and staring at the t-shirt on his lap, but he continued stroking Nick’s cheek, urging him to look him in the eye and, eventually, he gave in and raised his head. What Stef saw as he looked into Nick’s eyes tore at his heart; there were tears forming against the soft brown of his eyelids. He pulled Nick closer, desperate to take some of the pain away and show just how wrong he was.

“I don’t want anybody else. You’re all I think about. I cannot win a match, you drive me crazy, but I can’t live without you now.” 

“I’m such an asshole sometimes. It’s like...it just hurts so bad. I’m all alone out there, everybody judging me and I just lose it,” Nick said, his breath catching slightly as he tried to suppress a sob.

“Tell me. I’m here,” Stef urged.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re not really good enough? Like all I ever hear is that I’m this big waste of talent, that I’m the most talented player out there since Fed, but what if I’m not? What if I’m just another tennis player?” 

“Then you are just another tennis player, what matters is in here,” Stef said, putting his hand to Nick’s heart.

“Then why did you blank me tonight?” 

“Because I didn’t understand,” Stef confessed, “I do now and I want to be the face you see in your head when you lose it. I want to be the person you come to when it’s too much, when you’re hurting.”

“You’ll get sick of me pretty quickly,” Nick said, managing half a smile.

“Never.”

Still clutching the t-shirt, Nick looked at Stef steadily, opening his mouth slightly and closing it again as if he wished to say something more. Stef waited, bracing himself to further insist his commitment to Nick, but it didn’t come. Instead, Nick tilted his head to rest his forehead against Stef’s, softly rubbing their noses together. Lost in the sensation, Stef closed eyes, simply allowing himself to experience this moment.

“Thanks,” Nick said.

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what boyfriends do.”

Stef stood up, taking the t-shirt out of Nick’s hands and tossing it across the room to land on his suitcase. He then slid behind Nick on the bed, placing his legs on either side of Nick’s body and wrapping his arms around his waist. Sighing contentedly, Nick ran his hands over Stef’s arms and leaned back into him, their bodies pressed together.

“You know we’ve never actually slept in my room before…” Stef pondered.

“Are you asking me to stay the night?” Nick murmured. 

“It would be nice for George to have both of us to cuddle.”

“As long as we kick him out for the make up sex, I’m down for that.”

“Who said anything about make up sex?” Stef teased.

“The guy who’s currently pressed up against your crotch,” Nick said, pointedly.

Pulling Stef’s arms off his waist, Nick turned so that he was facing Stef, sliding a hand down his thigh as leaned in for a kiss, their tongues entwining. After a moment, Stef broke away from the kiss. Ignoring Nick’s confused look, he reached across the bed to nudge George to the floor where he landed out of sight.

“Cuddling will have to wait for now George,” Stef said, pulling Nick in to resume their kiss.


	5. Chapter Five

Checking the time on his phone once again, Nick began pacing around his hotel lobby. As cool as he’d tried to play it when he’d persuaded Stef to spend the day with him in New York, he’d spent hours scouring the internet trying to plan the perfect afternoon for them both. With the US Open due to start in a few days, it was hard enough to drag Stef, well Apostolos, away from the practice court and he was itching to make sure that everything went exactly as he had planned it.

The idea had come to him after that night in Cincinnati. It still haunted him, letting Stef see him that vulnerable and completely open, but more than anything he was relieved, relieved that Stef could see him like that and still be so gentle and accepting. He wanted and needed to find a way to say thank you, to try and put into action the words that he didn’t quite know how to say. After sneaking out of a sleepy Stef’s bedroom the following morning, he’d spent hours nursing increasingly lukewarm mugs of coffee as he tried to figure it out. It was Ash, his trainer, who’d planted the seed in his head by mentioning that they spent their lives travelling to these incredible cities and they never actually stopped to enjoy them. 

“I’m late, I’m so sorry!”

Nick looked up to see a flushed Stef rushing out of a taxi towards him. Nick looked him up and down, taking in the rare sighting of Stef in jeans and a shirt. Apart from that first night at the restaurant, he rarely saw Stef out of training clothes and often not even in those.

“Are you? I hadn’t even noticed.” Nick said, giving him a casual one-armed hug.

“So, you tell me to come here, you tell me to dress well. What is the surprise?” Stef asked.

“We’re taking a day trip,” Nick said, trying to maintain an air of mystery.

“A day trip? I am excited,” Stef said, grinning.

Despite trying his best to play the situation cool, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he looked at Stef’s excited expression. He hailed a taxi, making Stef wait outside while he whispered their destination to the taxi driver, so determined not to ruin the surprise ahead of time. Destination settled, he opened the door for Stef and beckoned him into the car, with a wink which caused Stef to chuckle in a way that set tingles down his neck.

“This is not like you,” Stef said, as the car pulled onto the road.

“Organised?” 

Stef laughed, “Romantic.”

Warily, Nick flashed a look at the driver who was, thankfully, lost in the music of the radio and navigating the New York traffic to notice the comment. When his eyes returned to Stef, he saw the frown form on his brow and the way he turned to look at the traffic as he clocked Nick’s reaction to his comment. Inwardly kicking himself that he’d managed to get them off on the wrong note when they weren’t even five minutes into the trip, he slid his hand along the imitation leather seat and rubbed his little finger against Stef’s.

“I like to surprise,” He said softly, covering the awkwardness he was feeling. 

To his relief, Stef turned back to look at him and smiled, entwining his own little finger with Nick’s, shifting the conversation to his slam preparation and the hours he was spending roasting away on court with Patrick and Apostolos. It was one of the things that continued to surprise Nick about his boyfriend, the way he could so expertly navigate away from awkward topics of conversation, the smile on his face covering the concerns and doubts which had lingered there just moments previously. It was so unlike himself. The rare moments where he did try to keep a lid on his negative thoughts only resulted in a bigger explosion when he eventually decided to speak his mind. They say that opposites attract, but it struck Nick that he was getting the much easier end of the deal the way things stood.

As their destination came into view, he turned to look to Stef and catch the moment where realisation dawned on his face as the mystery was revealed. It didn’t disappoint. It didn’t matter how the day unfolded, Nick knew that the single memory that he’d want to keep from this day for the rest of his life was the slight parting of Stef’s mouth and softness in his eyes as the Statue of Liberty came into view, eventually forming into a beaming smile. 

They stepped out of the cab and Nick once again found himself watching Stef, who closed his eyes to take in the breeze and sound of New York buzzing around them in Battery Park. 

“What do you think?” Nick asked, his voice betraying the nerves he’d been so desperate to keep a lid on.

“What do I think? I think it is perfect,” Stef said.

Nick grinned, “I’ve booked tickets for the boat and the statue so we won’t have to queue or anything.”

“We’re going up?” Stef beamed.

“We are, so you better have some energy left after all practice. The website says there’s 377 steps to climb. It’ll probably be like the most cardio I’ve done all year.” 

Nick waited the few seconds it always took for his sarcasm to register with Stef, and then led the way to the ferry terminal, having to pause every few minutes as Stef stopped to take yet another series of photographs on his phone. He said nothing, enjoying Stef’s obvious joy, but was already slightly dreading that Stef would decide to share every single last picture on their Whatsapp later in the day and expect Nick’s insight into each one.

On the boat, it was Nick who found himself slipping his hand into his pocket for his phone to take a snap of Stef against the backdrop of the Statue of Liberty. There was something so irresistible about the anticipation of his face and the way his golden locks were caught in the breeze that he couldn’t help himself. 

“You don’t usually take photographs of me,” Stef commented.

“I don’t want to risk you giving me tips,” Nick teased.

“Let’s take one together!”

Before Nick could even respond, Stef took the phone out of his hands and leaned into to take a selfie of them together. He then examined the photo and frowned.

“You’re not smiling?” 

“I don’t do smiling in selfies.”

“Not even for me?” Stef said, nuzzling into Nick’s cheek.

Nick rolled his eyes and leaned in again, but was secretly thrilled at the persistency from Stef. There wasn’t much that Stef couldn’t talk him into if he put his mind to it and the rapport that their relationship had so easily fallen into felt so completely natural that Nick didn’t even want to think of the time before “them”. Already it felt like years ago in his life.

This time he smiled, but was taken aback by Stef turning his head at the final moment to kiss his cheek, the picture capturing the exact moment he felt Stef’s lips on his cheek, his eyes widened with shock and pleasure. To Stef, he insisted that it was a terrible picture and that he was never smiling in a selfie again if it gave Stef ideas, but he saw the knowing look that told him Stef knew exactly how much he loved the picture and he found himself taking a moment to study the photo later as they queued to exit the boat. 

Although he’d planned the afternoon to give them an “experience” together, he spent more of their tour watching Stef’s reaction to anything and everything. Even if he had spent his afternoon with his eyes flitting between the views and sights, he still wouldn’t have found as much happiness as he did in the various expressions of wonder on Stef’s face as he took it all in. Not that he gave this away to Stef, panting about halfway up the steps and letting an exasperated Stef drag him the rest of the way, only to then admit he hadn’t been out of breath at all. This had earned him an mock-infuriated sigh from Stef, irritation that Stef hadn’t even managed to keep up the pretence of as he turned to see the view of New York from the crown, reaching back for Nick’s hand to pull him forward to share the experience with him, the view taking Nick’s own breath away.

After making his way back down the stairs, this time unaided by Stef who had practically sprinted ahead of him as payback, he sat at a table shaded by a tree once again looking at the selfie they’d taken on the boat. Apart from the earlier non-smiling attempt, it was the only photo they’d taken together and he couldn’t get over how perfectly it had captured them and their relationship. He wanted to print it, a smaller version of the picture that he could slip into his wallet and keep with him wherever he went. Keeping it locked away on his phone felt like doing the picture a disservice. 

“Two mango smoothies.” 

Jolting, Nick pressed the button to return him to his home screen and shoved his phone into his shirt pocket, guiltily looking up at Stef as he placed two smoothies on the table in front of them. He slipped into the seat beside Nick and sighed with contentment.

“You were right,” He said, after a moment.

“I mean that’s kinda taken, but you’re gonna have to humour me. Right about what?”

“You do like to surprise. This day, it’s been beautiful,” Stef said, tenderly. 

“Well I figured that you probably deserved a break from all that grinding on the court. _And_ I got to spend time with you which wasn’t so bad,” Nick grinned, sipping his smoothie.

“I know you want today to be your surprise, but I have a little surprise for you too.”

Nick watched with curiosity as Stef slipped his hand down the side of his seat to lift a bag that he hadn’t noticed and place it on his knee. With a quick glance at Stef, who was watching him with wide-eyed expectation, Nick dipped his hand into the bag and felt something soft give against his touch. He pulled it out of the bag and laughed warmly as he realised what he was holding. It was a plush bear dressed to look like the Statue of Liberty, a mirror of the gift he’d bought Stef from Washington.

“Do you like it?” 

“I mean this is the kinda thing that could totally kill my reputation,” He admitted, “But yeah, I love it.”

“I thought you could name her Liberty.”

“Libby?”

“Libby?” Stef said thoughtfully, “I like it.”

“Libby it is.”

“George is going to be so excited to meet his new sister!”

Nick groaned, “You absolutely did not just refer to George and Libby as our children.”

“Why not?” Stef beamed.

“Man, you are such a weirdo.”

“It’s good practice for when we do have children,” Stef insisted.

Frozen in shock, Nick stared at Stef vaguely aware of how ridiculous he looked with his mouth hanging open and a cuddly toy sat on his lap. He moved his lips to try and form words, but was stopped in his tracks by Stef throwing his head back and laughing. Letting realisation sink in, he sighed and tried to laugh along with Stef.

“You are so crazy sometimes!” Stef said, still laughing.

“Me? I’m not the one calling George and Libby our kids!”

Once again, Stef burst into laughter and shook his head with wonder at Nick. Nick rolled his eyes and tried to play it cool, sipping his smoothie and staring out across the New York skyline, but his heart was racing. The worst bit was that he couldn’t even fully pinpoint _why_. It had been a shock, to hear Stef talk so casually and openly about the prospect of them being parents, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface that he couldn’t quite get to to understand. 

“You have done all this for me, I want to take you out for dinner. Anywhere, your choice,” Stef said, placing his empty smoothie cup back on the table.

Nick hesitated, “I can’t. Not tonight.”

Stef’s face dropped slightly, “You’re busy?”

“I...said I’d meet up with a few of the guys, have a few beers,” Nick confessed.

“Which guys?” Stef asked, staring deliberately at the empty smoothie cup.

“Sock, Foe, some of the other American guys.”

After a moment, Stef raised his head to look him squarely in the eye, “I could join you.”

It was Nick’s turn to look away, “It’s probably not your scene.”

“I’d like to get to know your friends,” Stef persisted.

“Honestly, I don’t think you’d enjoy it at all. I’m free tomorrow though, we can go out and have dinner, watch a movie, whatever you want,” Nick offered weakly.

“Is this how it’s always going to be?”

Nick looked up at Stef, shocked at the frustration and demand in his tone. His eyes had flashed darker that Nick had ever seen them before and a rush of red colour was creeping up his cheeks. It was a conversation that he’d been so careful to avoid until now and, for as long as he could, he wanted to keep the pretence up as much as he could see it was hurting Stef.

“How what’s always going to be?” He asked innocently.

“This, hidden away so you can pretend to be something that you’re not with your friends,” Stef said, his voice dipping into resignation.

“I’m not “pretending”, I just...I’m not ready to tell anybody yet. We’ve been together for like a month and I just want to enjoy being with you before everybody starts sticking their noses in,” Nick explained.

“Yet?” Stef repeated after a moment, softening slightly.

“Yet,” Nick confirmed.

Studying the expression of reassurance on Nick’s, Stef smiled and reached out to stroke Libby’s paw which Nick took as the confirmation he needed that the subject could rest for now. Until today he’d been able to pretend that it wouldn’t come up, that they could keep on going the way there were. Sneaking around together had been part of the thrill, as much as his deepening feelings meant it couldn’t just be a “thrill” forever, and he’d tried so carefully to stave off the moment when Stef would ask him when they could make their relationship official. Yet. It had been such an easy word to say. He’d needed an exit, a way to eke out the moment until he would be asked the question once again and he’d be forced to make a choice that could only lead to hurt and regret whatever he chose. Yet. It had been such an easy lie to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be loosely based on the upcoming Laver Cup, so should be up sometime next week.


	6. Chapter Six

Swirling the contents slightly, Stef looked down into his champagne flute and watched the bubbles lift to the surface of the liquid. It was the first time he had drunk alcohol since that night in Washington and it had gone straight to his head. He felt light, numb and he felt an understanding for those people who sought to drown their woes in the sweet flow of alcohol. It was a time-honoured convention, he thought as he raised the glass to his lips with a chuckle and finished the contents of his glass. Beside him, Sascha Zverev watched him with a hint of bemusement before turning and laughing just slightly too hard at something Fabio said.

It shoudn’t be like this. He knew that and kept reminding himself of that as his mind inevitably drifted back into darker territory. Laver Cup Champions 2019. Team Europe. It was incredible that he was here sitting beside legends drinking champagne as their teammate and he wished more than anything that he could enjoy that for what it was, but every time he found himself doing just that his mind would inevitably drift back to Nick. Nick Nick Nick. 

Over the course of the three days, each time he looked across to the Team World bench he would feel that prickling envy and discomfort in his gut. All those times he’d heard about “the guys”, all those times he’d been brushed off for “the guys” and suddenly he was stuck in the midst of watching “the guys” at play. They were a noisy bundle of laughter, fist bumps and shoulder slaps and there was his boyfriend, right in the middle of them, not even sparing a glance in his direction. There had been so much excitement between them in the weeks leading up to this, listening to Nick repeatedly proclaim that it was the _best_ tournament and tease him with promises that Team World was coming for the win this year. For his own part, the prospect of playing alongside players he’d idolised as a child was something of a dream come true. Then came the reality.

He’d tried to be happy for him, he really had, seeing him in his element surrounded by friends, even if they were friends that Stef was kept deliberately separate from, and there had been something infectiously joyful in seeing Nick so selflessly get behind his fellow players. Then came his own match against Fritz and with each clap, word of advice and call of support for his opponent, the joy had withered into a bitterness that coursed through his veins. The emotions had been overpowering, throwing his vision off the ball, wanting it _too_ much, but somehow he had come through. That his overriding feeling was the satisfaction at having overcome one of “the guys”, a sharp spike of deflation into Nick’s dreams, as opposed to pride in securing a point for Team Europe was something he chose not to dwell on too closely. For the rest of the day, he’d made a considered effort not to turn his head to the left, focusing intently on the match each time the Air Jordans would step into his peripheral vision and, when the night came around, he switched his phone off and let the silence envelope him.

Perhaps that’s why it hurt even more when he rushed to switch his phone and found that there had been no attempt to contact him during those lonely hours. It had been a deal he made with himself, convincing himself that if he switched the phone off and gave Nick the cold shoulder, that he would wake up to find his inbox full of the teasing messages, absent of any adherence to punctuation, that he cherished. From then on he was unable to resist stoking the fires of bitterness in his soul, wounding himself with repeated looks across the benches as Nick remained completely oblivious, investing all his care and energy into his team. It built up so relentlessly and then he had found himself on the opposite side of the court to Nick and one of “the guys”, Jack Sock. On any other day, he would have been lost in the wonder of sharing a court with Rafael Nadal: a hero, a legend and now a partner, but all he could see and feel were the shoulder bumps and fist pumps on the other side of the court. A short ball drifted over the net and, as Stef stepped into the court for a volley, all those emotions came to a head, swinging the racket to drive the ball straight into Nick’s chest. Guilt tugged at him, despite his self-reassurances that it was a tactical shot, and he looked across the net to apologise but couldn’t bring himself to do it as he watched Nick writhe around for the benefit of his team, grinning at Jack as he pulled him upright. From there, they’d lost. Of course they’d lost. How could he possibly hope to win when his emotions had been stirred up so thoroughly and hopelessly?

They’d lost that battle, but tonight they had won the war, Stef mused as a waiter appeared to refill his champagne flute. With a smile to the waiter, he lifted the champagne to his lips, stopping himself from drinking as a thought struck him. He reached into his pocket for his phone and snapped a selfie of himself tipping the champagne glass to his lips. The lighting in the restaurant added a slight blur to the photo, but he scrolled through his contacts to Nick and attached the selfie all the same.

“Victory has never tasted so delicious 🍾”

It was petty and he knew that he was hurting himself far more than it would hurt Nick and still he sent it, needing some way to release what he was feeling. He thought back to New York, when he’d felt the assurances of Nick’s promises that they would be honest about their relationship. Everything had felt perfect between them, everything _was_ perfect between them and that was the problem. _Everything_ was between them. They existed only in hotel rooms away from prying eyes in a world where lying had become effortless and routine and he wanted more. He wanted to sit down to dinner with Nick’s family, to book a hotel room in both of their names, to simply be honest.

The chime of a message tone jolted Stef from his thoughts, but he was disappointed to realise that it came from the phone of the man sitting next to him. He was about to turn and reach for his glass again but caught the smirk on Sascha’s lips as he read the message, before hurriedly typing a reply which only caused his smirk to rise even further. It was an expression that Stef recognised from his own mouth from those many late-night messages exchanged between him and Nick.

“Somebody special?” Stef asked.

Sascha laughed slightly, “They certainly think so.”

“But not you?”

The smirk returned, “I have my moments.”

At this Stef smiled softly, understanding the feeling and noting the symmetry with his own situation. This time he did reach for his champagne glass, but was stopped in tracks by the lit screen as Sascha tossed the phone back onto the table. Only a second passed before the screen faded to black, but that second was enough to show the list of messages on Sascha’s phone and the initials right at the top of it. NK. The world turned before him and this time not because of the champagne. When cataloguing the moments of pain that the Laver Cup had thrown up, one had stood out above all others. With victory secured for Team Europe, the two teams had exchanged commiserations and congratulations and when he reached to bring Nick in for a hug, he had been brushed off without even a word as Nick moved on to the next member of Team Europe. Sascha Zverev. He had turned, looking over his shoulder, to see Sascha pull Nick into an embrace, them remaining in one another’s arms as Sascha spoke into Nick’s ear. It was the cold rebuttal in favour of one of “the guys”, one who had inflicted the decisive loss on Team World, one who was firmly a member of Team Europe, that had rankled at the time. Now, he played the moment back in his head with a piercing clarity that he simply couldn’t bear. 

He stood up abruptly, almost taking the contents of the table with him and ignoring the confused call of Sascha behind him as he strode through the restaurant and out into the night. The cool air hit him with a calming rush and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of it on his skin. It occurred to him that he probably should return and say something of a farewell to his team, a thank you to Roger for inviting him in the first place, but the thought of seeing Sascha’s face ended the thought as soon as it began. It was better this way. Tomorrow they would be rivals again and this weekend would be buried and gone, taking _him_ with it. If that was the burn of tears in his eyes, he could tell himself it was relief at freeing himself from this consuming pain. 

In his right trouser pocket, he felt a buzz of vibration from his phone. The urge was to ignore the message completely, but temptation won out and he slipped the phone out of his pocket, opening the message to reveal a photo of Nick with a bottle of wine pressed to his lips. 

“Defeat tastes pretty gd 2”

A drop of rain landed on the screen of his phone, and Stef wiped it away with the sleeve of his jacket, seeing the label on the bottle for the first time. Chablis. The wine they’d shared on their first night together. Both laughter and tears pulled at his face as he gently ran his thumb over the image, letting his eyes linger on it momentarily before sliding his thumb to the power button and turning into the night humming gently to himself.

_It’s on the rumour mill, the word is on the street,  
I love you so, the feeling’s bittersweet…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pretty heavy chapter without much dialogue, but it was very hard to get everything that happened during the Laver Cup into some sort of narrative. Especially given that it was five months ago! It has been an absolute age so thanks for sticking with it - I am determined to get this thing finished!


	7. Chapter Seven

Sliding his sunglasses down to get a clearer view, Nick peered round the main entrance of the hotel and smiled to himself. He’d been hanging around the coffee shop by the hotel for almost three hours now, waiting for the staff to change shift, and now his wait had come to an end. Trying to look as nonchalant as he possibly could, which was more of an effort than he’d thought with the hangover he was facing, he walked to reception and removed his sunglasses. The woman on reception turned to him with her eyebrows raised, and he flashed her his most winning smile.

“I’m totally jetlagged and forgot my key card for my room,” He said with a bashful smile.

“A tennis player?” The receptionist asked with a smile.

“Guilty as charged,” Nick said, holding his hands up.

The receptionist laughed at this and Nick tried to hide the relief on his face. The man who’d been on reception when he checked in made the many customs officials Nick had come across in his years of travelling look positively chill, verifying Nick’s identity with a suspicious gaze and scrutinizing authority, barking out questions to ensure all arrangements were in line with the tournament specifications. Trying to pull this stunt on him would probably have found him carted off to the local prison for a lengthy stay.

“What name is it?” The woman asked, tapping away at her computer.

“Stefanos Tsitsipas.”

“Room 610?” 

“The very one,” Nick said, his face beginning to ache from smiling.

The woman tapped a few details into the computer and slid a keycard into the machine before placing it in front of Nick. He picked it up and slid it into his pocket, wanting to make a quick getaway in case the discrepancy was picked up on or, even worse, his earlier receptionist decided to make a reappearance.

“Thanks,” He said, winking to the receptionist.

“Enjoy your stay, sir. The room has a beautiful view.”

Nick smiled to himself at this. The room certainly did come with a beautiful view, although perhaps not the one that the receptionist was alluding to. It occurred to him that he should probably be slightly concerned at how easy it was to bluff your way into acquiring a keycard for a hotel populated by tennis players, but it had served his purpose and it probably helped that he just about looked like a tennis player. It would be much harder for a local teenage girl to claim that they were a Mr Stefanos Tsitsipas. Although he suspected that an infatuated teenage fan might be welcomed more warmly than him right now.

Something had happened in the past twenty-four hours and, whatever that was, Stef now had the hump with him. He’d received a message the night before of Stef looking charmingly flushed and boyish while drinking champagne and, since then, nothing. It was probably something that he’d done; it usually was. They’d been in Prague for five days and he hadn’t exactly been the most attentive boyfriend or attentive in any sense of the word. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed the way Stef’s eyes would follow him as he prowled the Team World area or the way he looked to pull him in for physical contact more than just a clap of the hands; he had seen and felt it all. He just _couldn’t_. Not in that environment, not with all those eyes on them. So, yeah, he probably did deserve Stef being pissed at him, but it was still pretty gutting to board a flight to Zhuhai, check in to the same hotel as his boyfriend and to have heard absolutely nothing. 

The elevator doors opened and Nick frowned as he heard a throb of music from down the corridor. It was late afternoon so not the most inconsiderate time, but even he was careful to keep the volume in check when staying in a hotel surrounded by strangers trying to relax. As he walked up the corridor, clocking the door numbers as he went, it became worryingly apparent that he’d be getting to hear the song in even clearer quality once he slipped his keycard into 610. Reaching the door, he paused and pressed his ear to the door.

_All the things I know right now  
If I only knew back then  
There's no gettin' over, no gettin' over  
There's just no gettin' over you_

He couldn’t suppress a roll of his eyes. Stef was beautiful, sensitive and kind beyond words, but he was also an absolute drama queen. 

A woman came out into the corridor from a few doors down and glared at Nick as she took in the music and saw the keycard in his hand. What was another member of the public who thought he was a disrespectful asshole anyway? He waited for her to pass and enter the elevator before sliding the keycard into the door and letting himself into the room.

The music continued to blare out obnoxiously, so obnoxiously that Stef didn’t even realise he’d been joined in the room at all as he lay stretched out on the carpet at the end of the bed, wearing just a pair of Adidas shorts with his eyes closed. Nick stepped towards him and tapped Stef’s shoulder with the toe of his shoe. At the contact, Stef immediately sat up, his eyes looking wildly up at Nick and, as realisation set in, darkening into a glare.

“How did you get in here?” He demanded, standing up and reaching for a t-shirt on the bed which he roughly pulled over his head.

“I kicked the door down. You might have heard me if you weren’t driving all the other guests out with that racket,” Nick teased, nodding at the bluetooth speakers on the desk.

Stef looked at the door in angry confusion and, on realising Nick was joking, turned to switch the music off leaving them in complete silence.

“Hopefully the damage isn’t permanent,” Nick quipped, rubbing at his left ear.

At this Stef simply rolled his eyes, “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

Nick simply held up the keycard, causing Stef to flush an even deeper shade of pink and angrily reach out for the card. He was too quick though and moved his arm behind his back before Stef could even make contact with it.

“This is illegal,” Stef raged.

“You can have it back when you tell me why you’re pissed at me,” Nick said sweetly.

“I’m not pissed at you. I feel nothing for you,” Stef insisted.

“Well you could have told me, bro. Saved me committing identity fraud...”

“I thought you might be too busy. With your other boyfriend,” Stef said cuttingly.

At this, Nick furrowed his brow in confusion. Since Stef last messaged him, he’d had one more round of beers with Team World and then left alone for his hotel room to fit in a mighty three hours sleep before dragging himself up to catch a plane to Zhuhai. A plane he’d only bothered catching because the tournament gave him a convenient excuse to spend a week with Stef.

“You have totally lost me here, Stef. Are you sure it was just champagne you were drinking last night?”

“Sascha.”

A slight tension settled over Nick’s shoulders, “Again, while I love it when you’re all Greek and mysterious, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me.”

“You were messaging him last night.”

“Yeah, because he was all like gloating about going 3-0 against us in the Laver Cup. Not because he’s my secret boyfriend. Like I don’t already have enough boyfriend drama with you,” Nick said, trying to keep the tone light.

“That’s not what I saw,”

The tension crept over his shoulders like icy water, “What did you see?”

“I saw the way he looked, the way he reacted to your message. That you were ‘somebody special’.”

Nick looked at Stef uneasily for a moment. This wasn’t how he had wanted Stef to find out. Rather, he hadn’t wanted Stef to find out at all. If it was the choice between losing what they had and being honest though, there was only ever going to be one answer. With a deep breath, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and scrolled to the appropriate message thread, offering the phone to Stef when he opened it. Stef accepted the phone, his mouth set in a firm line.

> How would you like to fuck a laver cup winner?
> 
> Whos asking? If its rafa then id rather eat clay
> 
> Hotter than Rafa
> 
> Roger? I guess he got that daddy thing going
> 
> Younger than Roger
> 
> Stefanos? Hes the prettiest
> 
> He’s way too boring for you. I’m drunk and horny and i miss your taste
> 
> Cute. I got an early flight tho
> 
> Since when do you care about early flights?
> 
> Im mr professional
> 
> Sounds dull. How can I change your mind?
> 
> Gnight sascha

Nick watched Stef’s face as he read each line of his exchanges with Sascha’s from the previous night, his expression changing almost imperceptibly as he read further down the messages. The hungry curiosity stayed throughout though. When he was finished he handed the phone back to Nick without making eye contact.

“You didn’t see him last night?” He asked quietly.

“It’s all there for you to see,” Nick said softly.

Stef looked at him, deeply and searchingly into his eyes, “Before though?”

Nick sighed and sat on the bed, as much for some respite from his jetlagged, hungover exhaustion as anything, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. He longed to lie back and just fall asleep in Stef’s room, knowing he was there with him, but that would have to come second. If at all.

“Yeah, before,” Nick confessed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stef pressed.

“Because it wasn’t a big deal. We’d hook up like a couple of times a year when we were bored, it was never anything serious. Not like you and me.”

Stef softened at this and slid down the wall in front of Nick, cuddling his knees to his chest and following Nick’s eyes with his own. It unsettled Nick to be looked at with such searching and meaning, but he maintained the eye contact between them, desperate to prove his sincerity.

“Were you tempted? By Sascha,” Stef asked eventually.

“Not even for like a second. I’m with you.”

Stef laughed bitterly, “Ten minutes ago, I hate you. Now you’re here and saying these things, breaking into my room to be with me. It’s…”

“Romantic?”

“Exhausting,” Stef said. After a moment, he added, quieter this time, “I hated you at the weekend too.”

This is what Nick had expected when he found himself on the end of Stef’s cold shoulder, although not quite to the extremes of “hate”. They’d been on opposing teams. It was so simple and yet, between them, it meant so much more. It was that eternal weight that their relationship had to bear that they only ever touched at the sides of, never looking too closely. The weight that held them and their relationship back from everything that he knew Stef wanted it to be. Hate. It hurt, really hurt him to hear it said so bluntly, but as he looked down at Stef sat on the carpet, his face an expression to repressed pain, his growing bitterness faded. All the youth and relationship naivety that Stef had over Nick was laid bare and that became all that mattered.

“Like, imagine you were in a grand slam semi final, another one, and got to the final. You need space because you gotta keep your head straight because it’s your dream and you’re scared that something could mess it up. That’s what the Laver Cup is to me. I’m not you. I’m not Roger, Rafa or any of those guys wanting like a gazillion grand slams. I had to keep my head straight for Laver Cup. It doesn’t mean that I wasn’t like constantly checking you out in those tight shorts that you wear, or wanting to be with you, I just had to put everything into my team for three days.”

There was a slight smile on Stef’s face now, pinching at his left cheek. Sometimes it was that smile that made it feel like all of this was worth it, all the panic and anxiety that clawed at him. Somehow when he saw that smile, he had the sense that it was all going to be okay and if it wasn’t then at least he got to be on the receiving end of that smile before it all went to hell.

“I feel like I’ve let you down, seen the worst in you. I don’t want to be like that,” There was a sadness in Stef’s tone.

“I probably deserved it and, like, you’re actually pretty hot when you’re all jealous and moody anyway,” Nick teased.

“Sascha though. He’s such a…” 

“Ass. I know.”

They both laughed and Nick shifted himself onto the floor, shuffling around to sit beside Stef, nudging his knee lightly with his own. To Nick’s relief, Stef didn’t shy from the touch and pressed his knee back against Nick’s.

“I won’t go near him, I’ll delete his number, block him on social media. You’re all that I want.” Nick whispered, resting his head on Stef’s shoulder.

“I don’t need any of that. All I need is you.”

Stef kissed the top of Nick’s head, nuzzling into his hair, then reaching for his hand and standing up to heave Nick up.

“You’re still kicking me out. Brutal man,” Nick moaned.

“You look tired. I’m putting you to bed here. In my room. No arguments,” Stef said warmly.

“So we’re good?”

Stef hesitated for a moment and then smiled, “We are good.”

Nick allowed Stef to sit him on the bed and tenderly remove his clothes, leaving him in just his shorts as he was pushed down onto the bed, Stef lifting the duvet and tucking it in around his shoulders before kissing him gently on the lips and running his hand softly over his hair. Through his already half-closed eyes, Nick watched Stef collect his clothes and find the keycard in his jeans pocket, moving to slide it into his own pocket before changing his mind and placing it back in Nick’s pocket. He folded the clothes and placed them neatly on a chair. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he opened his suitcase and pulled his shoes out, putting them on before turning back to the suitcase and retrieving George from it. Nick smiled to himself. However pissed Stef had been at him, he’d kept that toy and kept it with him wherever he went. That meant something. He knew that because right at the bottom of his suitcase was Libby, wherever he went.

Placing the toy beside Nick in bed, Stef bent over him and whispered, “There are things I need to get, but I won’t be gone for long.”

“If anyone asks, you’re Nick Kyrgios,” Nick mumbled.

Almost at the door, Stef turned back to look at him, “Nick Kyrgios?”

“I had to say I was you to get the keycard.”

He was half asleep, but couldn’t mistake the way Stef’s features folded into a smile that lit up his entire face.

“_Call me by your name_....” Stef murmured.

“Mmm?” 

“Nothing. It’s a book. That is all.” Stef said warmly.

Nick groaned lightly, “Of course it is.”

Stef laughed, “Sleep well Stefanos.”


	8. Chapter Eight

Stef ran his finger over Nick’s collarbone, up to his shoulder and then dropped his head to plant a kiss on it. Despite losing his matches because of the pain he was in, he still maintained that it was nothing to worry about. Stef saw him in the moments when he didn’t think he was looking though, catching his winces as he raised his arm to wash in the shower or pushed himself up in bed.

“I’m fine,” Nick insisted.

“I know,” Stef humoured, “I just like playing nurse to you.”

“I’ll have to get you an outfit for Christmas. You reckon you could carry it off?” Nick teased.

“For you, maybe.”

Their Laver Cup exploits at the weekend had caught up with them, both having exited Zhuhai by the end of the second round. The tournament’s loss had been their gain though as Nick’s pestering that they should stay and have a few days had won out against his Dad’s insistence that they should head to Beijing early for extra preparation. He’d sent his Dad and the rest of his team off to Beijing ahead of him, telling them that he needed some time for himself, to soak up the Zhuhai culture. The irony was that he’d barely seen _any_ of the Zhuhai culture beyond the four walls of his hotel room, Nick taking up residence beside him.

It was liberating, in many ways, to share a room and not have to worry about one sneaking out before their teams noticed anything suspicious and it had given him a chance to see Nick at his most relaxed. They filled their hours making love and watching Chinese television, coming up with their own lines for the Mandarin-speaking characters, their plotlines becoming more and more outlandish with each minute that passed until they were laughing so hard that they couldn’t speak. They ate their meals in bed, cross-legged as they attempted to master the use of chopsticks, and at night they would fall asleep in each others’ arms, not worrying about alarm clocks or having any reason to get dressed.

Still, there were moments where Stef would find his eyes drifting to the window, wishing they could walk along the river together, drinking green tea and taking photographs, or go to a restaurant and hold hands across the table. The hotel they were staying in was the official tournament hotel, players and coaching staff constantly coming and going, and Stef had noticed the immediate reticence in Nick’s eyes when he suggested they went out for breakfast a few days previously. He hadn’t suggested they go out again since then, but he had to admit that he couldn’t complain about the time they had spent together.

“I’d like to show you Greece. My Greece,” Stef mused.

“I think I’ve been in Greece enough recently,” Nick smirked.

“Seriously, I want to show you where I grew up, the Contemporary Art Museum, the view from the Acropolis.”

“I love listening to you talk when you’re all passionate. It’s like ridiculously sexy. Keep telling me stuff.”

Stef beamed, “The view from the Acropolis, on a summer evening as the sun sets, it’s the most incredible thing. The colours, they are oranges and reds, pinks. So many shades and the sky, in the light it looks to be purple. It is the most beautiful view in the world.”

Nick was watching him with a soft, content smile on his face, taking in every word that he said and Stef flushed with pleasure. They were so different and Nick would tease him and be sarcastic about these differences at times, but he always listened, always took in his words and was genuinely interested in what he had to say.

“It sounds incredible, man. My Dad always talks about what an amazing country it is, that it makes Canberra look like a garbage can.”

Stef laughed, “Tell me about Canberra.”

“There’s not much to tell. I have like the most simple, boring life there. I play basketball with my friends, I go to the same place every morning for coffee. The owner there is a big Lakers fan, always giving me shit about the Celtics but he really knows his stuff. There’s a few galleries that you would probably spend like hours in, looking at every picture, probably telling me all about the lighting and perspective and all that other photography stuff, but that’s about it.”

“So you do listen to me when I talk about my photography?” 

“You talk about it so much that it’s not like I have much choice. Shit. What time is?” 

Nick sat upright in bed, scrabbling for his phone is the mess that has become his bedside table, leaving Stef watching in confusion. On finding his phone, he checked the time and jumped out of bed, kicking up his t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

“I’m supposed to be meeting Andy for dinner,” Nick explained.

“Andy?” 

“Muzza.”

“You never said anything.”

“I must have forgotten or something.” 

“We’re here together all the time. How could you just forget?” Stef asked, forcing a laugh.

Continuing to pull his clothes on, Nick let the question go unanswered. For a few moments, Stef sat on the bed staring into space, listening to the indelicate footsteps of Nick as he moved about the room. An idea struck him and he sat on the side of the bed, pulling his own t-shirt on and then standing up to retrieve his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked cagily.

“I thought that I could come with you,” Stef said, ignoring his gaze and putting his shoes on.

“Well it’s supposed to be just me and Andy. We haven’t really had time to catch up since he came back yet.”

It was Stef’s turn to ignore Nick this time, bending to tie his shoelaces and wondering how far he could push this and Nick. On the other side of the bed, he could sense Nick stood deathly still, watching him the entire time and, when his shoelaces were tied, he stood up and looked directly back at him.

“Stef.”

“We don’t want to be late,” Stef said stubbornly.

“_We_ aren’t going anywhere.”

“Andy’s your friend, he won’t mind if you bring another friend to dinner.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Nick snapped.

“I think it would be nice to have dinner with one of your friends,” Stef persisted.

“Jesus, man. Will you just let it drop?” 

“You’re scared,” Stef accused, “That he’ll see we’re more than just friends.”

“And so what? I will tell my friends when I want to,” Nick responded, his voice raised.

“So you would be okay if I were to tell my friends that we have a relationship.”

“I didn’t say that. Can we just...talk about this later?” Nick pleaded.

There was a part of him that wanted to concede, to kick off his shoes and let him go because he knew they wouldn’t talk about it later. Nick would come back and they would kiss and slide into bed together. And that’s why he couldn’t. He was so tired of his life hanging on a “later” that never seemed to come any closer.

“You know the closest that you have come to telling anybody about us is when you were flirting with Sascha Zverev,” Stef accused.

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous of Sascha again? Dude, there is nothing going on between me and Sascha.”

“I know. What I am saying is that that is the only time you have ever said something kind about me to another person.”

Nick stared at him for a moment, his eyes filled with a sadness and wariness that Stef was pretty sure was a reflection of his own. The weight of how desperately sad their situation was settled on Stef with devastating transparency. 

“Please,” Nick begged.

“Why do you say it? About Canberra, the galleries that I would like, when you will never take me to see them?”

“I _will_,” Nick insisted, “I just need more time.”

“How much time?” Stef pressed, desperately wanting to believe him.

“I don’t know,” Nick sighed, “Soon.”

Stef laughed bitterly to himself, “And in a month you will say soon to me again.”

“Why can’t things just stay the way they are? I’m happy, you’re happy. It works.” 

“It works because this is what you want. I am not happy. When I am with you, yes, but then I must go and lie to my family. That isn’t happiness.”

“I don’t want to be some gay poster boy for the ATP,” Nick snapped, “I can’t even believe that you seriously think we’d be happy like that.”

“We’d be free to be who we are.”

“Big fucking whoop. You have no idea. You’re the ATP golden boy, you don’t know what it’s like to get shit on social media every single day, to have the press completely obsessed with you. That is what our life would be.”

Stef shook his head, “I don’t want to lie anymore.”

“Fucking hell Stef. Will you just let it go?” Nick raged.

“No,” He said, forcing himself to sound far more certain than he actually was.

Nick stood and looked at him for a moment, his eyes full of dark rage, and then began moving around the room in swiping, agitated movements as he shoved his belongings into his bag. Helpless, Stef stood watching him rid the room of all traces of his presence, of the time they’d had together. He was shaking, desperate to beg him to stay but knowing the damage that it would do, the damage that had already been done. 

With all his belongings in the bag, Nick dumped it by the door and turned to look at Stef, the same rage burning in his eyes. 

“You think you’re so fucking smart with your bullshit philosophy. You have no fucking idea,” He snarled.

“At least I am true to myself.”

“Yeah well I’m sure you’ll be so happy being true to yourself when you’re on your own with your vlogs and your photography and your dad. I'll find somebody else. Somebody better than you who doesn’t give me so much shit.”

It hurt so much that he couldn’t even find the words to reply. With a final disgusted look thrown in his direction, Nick left the room with a slam of the door. The shaking in his body intensified and he sat on the bed to steady himself, not quite believing what had just happened. In that second he’d decided to start getting dressed, to make a stand, he had been so certain that he would push the issue only to let it lie again. He had wanted Nick to know that he saw a different future for them, one where they could be open with their friends and family and the world around them. The resolution with which Nick had stubbornly denied the possibility had shocked and devastated him. How could there be a future when this was all they had? Four walls and a tapestry of lies.

There was still hope though and Stef waited up, listening for footsteps in the corridor and venturing to the door whenever he thought he heard the chime of the elevator down the corridor, pacing constantly. It didn’t quite seem real that this could be it and yet that became his reality with each hour that passed. Exhausted, his face aching from the tears he had cried, he finally pulled himself into bed at 4am, lying where Nick had slept and breathing in the lingering scent of him. 

His final thought as he fell asleep was that he’d never even had the chance to tell Nick that he loved him.


	9. Chapter Nine

_”I think nowadays,people are really attached…_

There was a tap on the door and Nick stuffed his phone under his pillow, closing his eyes to feign sleep should they decide to come in regardless of his lack of reply. He waited, keeping his eyes closed the entire time and, after a moment, he heard gentle footsteps leading away from the door. Sighing, he retrieved his phone and slid the the minute bar back a few seconds on YouTube.

_”I think nowadays, people are really attached...to social media…”_

He paused the video and took in the face looking back at him, the sleepiness in the eyes and the raise of the eyebrows as he spoke. It was so familiar, so painfully familiar, but still he kept coming back to it. In the two months since he’d departed Zhuhai, shutting down his season with his collarbone injury, he’d spent hours just like this and still he always came back to this moment of Stef lying on his side in bed, his head rested on his hand as he looked into the camera. It was because it reminded him of the Stef he’d known as they lay awake at night talking, neither quite prepared to give into their sleepiness. On some days he would venture to the end of his bed to play COD, or even as far as the kitchen for food, but watching the vlogs of Stefanos Tsitsipas had become his life.

That night... He hated to even think about it, the discomfort burning through him each time he did. He’d managed to drag himself through two hours of dinner with Andy, the constant smile he tried to force not being enough to cover his true feelings, resulting in Andy affectionately telling him he was a “moody git”. Maybe moody wasn’t quite the right word, he had been almost dazed by the growing realisation of what had happened and that they were over and over because of him. When he returned to the hotel, he automatically caught the elevator to floor six and had almost stepped out onto the corridor, but fear drove him back downstairs to his own room where he sat awake for hours, desperate for Stef to turn up at the door or even call him. 

The next day he had caught a flight back to Canberra, devastated by the totality of what he had done and what he had lost. When he arrived back home, his mum had rushed to make a fuss of him, but he shook her off to sit on his bed where he finally gave in to the pain and broke down in shuddering sobs which he muffled with his pillow. He’d never cried like that over a relationship before, the raw pain consuming him. Most of the time he was pretty good at putting a front on, burying his pain at a safe distance where he chose not to let it touch him too closely, but he’d completely lost the ability at that moment.

When he woke up, eyes still puffy from the tears, he’d been suddenly full of the conviction that he could make it right, putting together the words in his head that would bring Stef back to him. At each turn he had been thwarted though, blocked on social media, unable to reach Stef by phone and it fully hit him that, in his own typical style, he’d pushed him too far. The words he’d said that night echoed in his mind, but still he couldn’t let go and lost himself in hours of vlogs, looking for hidden messages that Stef was missing him with each new upload. He seemed happy though, winning the biggest title of his career and his life just as full and rich as it had ever been. Nick was struck by the hollowness of the four walls that he was stuck within, the walls that he had built around himself.

More of the day passed, although he couldn’t be sure how much. Keeping track of the time was something that he gave up a long time ago, only vaguely aware of the light around the curtains telling him if it was day or night. Tapping to watch “THE ICELANDIC TEMPTATION” vlog, his mind inevitably drifted to wondering what a vacation for the two of them would have looked like, his predisposition for lie-ins running at total odds with Stef’s desire to get out and experience everything that a place has to offer. Stef had put that aside for him in Zhuhai, he recognised with a dull thud of pain in his chest.

There was another knock at the door, but this time they didn’t wait for the lack of answer and his mum strode into the room straight to the curtains which she opened with a pointed flourish as Nick hastily paused the video. She turned to him with her hands on her hips, while he shielded his eyes from the blinding light.

“Do you mind?” He snapped.

“Two months you have been stuck in this room. I’ve had enough. Your sister is home in a week and I need help getting the house ready.”

“Get dad to help you,” Nick mumbled.

“Your father is out working while you lie around in bed doing nothing and being waited on hand and foot. You either start helping out around the house or you pick up your racket and go and practice.”

“I should have moved out years ago,” Nick muttered to himself.

“But you didn’t and while you live under our roof, you won’t waste your life spending day after day in bed.”

“Fine, I’ll come and help with getting the house ready for Princess Hali.”

“Much better.”

With a final stern glance at him, she picked up the strewn basketball jerseys and shorts that had been neglected across his bedroom carpet and bundled them into her arms ready for the machine. When she reached his bedroom door, she turned back to look at him.

“At least you haven’t got a tattoo this time,” She said, throwing a disapproving look at his right hand.

He rolled his eyes, but the comment stung. The tattoo felt as much Stef’s as it was Ajla’s now. It was what had broken the ice between them, their first step into seeing a different side of each other, and everytime he looked at it his mind went back to that moment on the practice courts when he’d seen that earnest yet mischievous glint in Stef’s eye. He needed to stop doing this to himself, he realised as he swung himself out of bed.

They worked silently side-by-side, his mum thrusting dusters into his hand, handing him refuse bags or pointing him to the vacuum, the silence never having a chance to become too imposing as the whir of the washing machine or vacuum filled the house. As he worked, King and Quincy followed him around their eyes full of longing affection, no doubt confused at becoming unwitting victims of his heartbreak. When their jobs were finished, his mum pointedly ticking off the final chore on the list, he took them out into the garden in an attempt to make up for lost time, throwing as many balls as they were willing to retrieve, patting them and breathing their fur in. It felt good. It was the first time he’d been out of the house in..he doesn’t even want to think about it, but the normality made for a refreshing break from his solitude. The pain remained, but there were other feelings now too.

As the sun set in the sky, his mum called the dogs for their supper and he followed them inside, sitting at the breakfast bar and watching as they buried their snouts into the bowls of food.

“Are you going to tell me who she is?” Nill asked, placing a mug of coffee in front of him.

Nick laughed ruefully, “It doesn’t matter. I fucked it up.”

“And you can’t repair it?”

“I’ve tried.”

“Try again.” 

“It’s not that easy. They’re on the other side of the world.”

Nill nodded with understanding, “A tennis player?”

“Yeah.”

Nill sat down on the opposite side of the breakfast bar and took his hands in her own, causing Nick to look up at her. They didn’t do this, not like this anyway. She asked after his love life and tutted at his nonchalant responses or pecked at him to find somebody nice and settle down while he slouched off for another night out. Beyond that ill-fated tattoo decision and wistfully telling him that Ajla was “a good girl” when he broke the news that they were over, she’d never pried or asked for more than he offered. It must have been bad. He must have been bad.

“I’ve really fucked up, mum,” His voice broke slightly.

Her hands squeezed his, “I know. I see more than you think I do, but you’re such a stubborn boy that you would never come to me. Tell me about her.”

Nick swallowed and looked away, “Him.”

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead she smiled softly and him and gave his hands another squeeze of reassurance.

“Sascha again?” 

Nick looked at her sharply, “How did you…?”

“I’m no fool Nicholas. All those times he would be in your room playing “video games” and come out looking red in the face with his clothes all messed up during juniors. Do you think your mother is blind?” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Nill chuckled, “You’d have raged at me for even suggesting it! I knew you’d come to me in your own time.”

There was a tear rolling down Nick’s cheek, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the affectionate exasperation of his mum. He _would_ have raged at her. He could picture it, telling her she was imagining things and that she needed to stay out of his private life, slamming doors and refusing to come down for meals. It was wonder that she stuck by him at all through the teenage years and, as he looked at her now, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t come to her sooner. She had never been anything but caring and understanding of his moods, his tempers and his complete lack of self regard at times. When he lost his grandma, she was the constant, putting aside her own grief to comfort him through his. 

“It’s not Sascha. I mean, you’re right, we did use to hook up, but it’s not him.”

“Then tell me about this boy. Is he handsome?” Nill demanded warmly.

“Well I think he is. It’s Stef. Tsitsipas.”

For the first time, his Mum’s expression registered surprised but she then nodded with approval, “We cannot resist these Greek men! He is very handsome, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“But it’s over?” Nill asked, a more sober note creeping into her tone.

“Yeah, we had this massive fight and I said some pretty horrendous things and it’s like all those things we fought about don’t even matter now. I just miss him.”

Nill smiled softly at him, a smile which conveyed years of understanding at being on the end of a Nick Kyrgios tirade and of knowing how sorry he was when he burned himself out, the shy way he would apologise and look for reassurance that he was forgiven.

“Have you told him?” She asked.

“I’ve tried. He won’t answer my calls, he’s blocked me on Twitter and Instagram. What am I supposed to do?” 

“Try something different. Something he can’t ignore.”

With a pat on his hands, she slid herself out of her stool and left the kitchen. Nick listened to her rummaging through a closet with a frown of confusion on his face, hearing the little tuts she made as the gentle thud of things dropping could be heard, followed by the sharp click as the door closed. Nick looked up at the kitchen door to see her holding an envelope up. She placed it on the counter and then revealed the Christmas card beneath it.

“You have his address?” She asked.

“Yeah, but I cannot write him a letter. Who even writes letters in 2019?” Nick scoffed.

“Nobody can ignore a Christmas card. Write.” She demanded.

She picked up a pen and tossed it onto the Christmas card with a pointed look at Nick. Sighing, he picked up the pen and she nodded with triumph before leaving him alone in the kitchen. Nick clicked the end of the pen a few times and then put pen to paper.

_Dear Stef..._


	10. Chapter Ten

“You need to fold the paper over so that you get a neat edge!” Elisavet said.

Stef pushed the present away and turned to his sister who had all the appearance of being engrossed in whatever was on her phone, but was still watching him attempt to wrap his presents, full of tips and cheerful criticisms of how he was going about. 

“How about if you wrap these presents for me, I pay you?” Stef offered.

Elisavet looked at him over her phone, “How much?”

“Twenty euros.”

“Twenty five?” Elisavet asked hopefully.

“Deal.”

Stef moved to ruffle her hair, but she dipped away from his hand, no doubt too old and self-conscious to have her hair messed up these days. He left her to her wrapping devices, bent over the coffee table armed with scissors, and stopped at the doorway to watch her tackle the first gift she reached for - a jewelry stand, carved to look like a wooden tree without leaves, that he had found for his mother months ago. He had been leaving it for last, dreading the awkward contours and trying to navigate the paper around them and, now, watching Elisavet, he saw how she deftly and efficiently folded the paper, resulting in a beautifully-wrapped gift in what must have been less than a minute. A lot of growing up had been over the last year, he realised, recalling that it was not so long ago that she had excitedly awaited the visit Ayios Vassileios. Now she was wrapping his presents.

While his sister was busy at work, he went to the kitchen and helped himself to melomakarono, brushing away the crumbs that fell onto his chest as he ate. Since he had been a child, the melomakarono had been almost sacred. Every year, as his mother made it, he and his siblings drifted to the kitchen, hoping to be allowed to lick the spoon and then watched as the cooled end result was put into the tin with warnings that it was to be saved for Christmas Eve. When Christmas Eve came around, there were always four missing from the tin as it was opened. It had become as much of the tradition as the baking and leaving one out for Ayios Vassileios.

Stef heard the front door open and rushed to swallow the remainder, rubbing the evidence from his hands. Laden down with bags and looking windswept, his mother and father joined him in the kitchen, his father throwing an exasperated roll of the eyes in his direction. They had been gone for almost four hours, supposedly buying just the last few bits and pieces. Stef tried to hide his smile as he took a bag off his mother and started putting the items away. There was so much food that they couldn’t possibly eat it all, but this was always the way at Christmas.

“This came for you,” His mother said.

Stef turned to look at her and saw her rifling through a pile of letters and Christmas cards that had come with the final delivery before Christmas. She held out to him a card in a white envelope, which he took and examined with curiosity.

“From Australia,” His father said, looking over his shoulder.

Stef had been so fixated on the handwriting that he hadn’t even fully taken in the international air duty stamps across the envelope. 

“Are you not going to open it?” His mother asked.

“It’s probably from Tennis Australia,” Stef shrugged, shoving the card in his back pocket.

Keeping his head dipped to hide the blushing heat of his cheeks, he reached for another bag and pulled out the contents. Behind him, his mother and father were lamenting on how Christmas cards would die out soon with this next generation and reminiscing about the cards that Stef and his siblings had made as children. Stef was thankful for the lack of attention, his hands shaking as he opened cupboard doors and put away tins and packets. All he could think of was the handwriting. He couldn’t be sure as everything between them had been on their phones, still was on his phone if he was honest, but it had stirred a memory. During the US Open, he had entered his hotel room to find him writing a child’s birthday card for his mother to take back to Australia for one of the kids who he had met through his foundation. At the time, he had gently teased Nick for having a soft soul, threatening to tell the world that he had a golden heart and being playfully pinned to the bed by Nick in response. Now, he kept coming back to that fleeting glimpse of Nick’s handwriting over his shoulder. Could it be possible?

When the shopping was packed away, he moved to go to his bedroom, but was called back as his parents wanted the family to sit together for lunch. Stef let the conversation happen around him, his family laughing and discussing their excitement over their Christmas plans in two days. All he could think about was the white envelope uncomfortably digging into him through his trousers. 

Maybe it would be easier if it was Tennis Australia. He had done so well to move on with his life. As he had packed his bags in his hotel room in Zhuhai, he had made the decision to pack away his feelings with them. There was nothing to be gained from loving and longing for somebody who did not want the same life as him. His energies had been poured into his tennis, his photography and his vlogs, just as they had been before _him_ and it was a comforting, familiar existence. In London, he had won the biggest title of his career; he had traveled and spent valuable time with friends. Life was good and, in those moments when his mind did stray into the territory of wondering what might have been, he quickly told himself to think of more positive things, deliberately ignoring the lingering sadness that settled on him. 

And yet, he knew that he wanted, more than anything, for that card to not be from Tennis Australia. Already the prospect of a courtesy card with a scribble of a signature from an official was filling him with disappointment and he moodily pushed his lunch around his plate at this thought. Hunger had departed him and, when the rest of his family had finished, he happily let Petros take the food he had left on his plate and offered to clear the table, knowing that it would free him up quicker than washing or drying the dishes. When he was done, he left his family to wash the dishes, trying to look as casual as possible as he headed to his bedroom. 

Inside, he closed the door and tore at the envelope, pulling out a card and turning it upright to see a koala bear hugging a Christmas tree. He stared at it for a moment, not quite ready to open it up and have the contents and the author confirmed to him. Two months of trying to forget and yet he was painfully aware of the hope that had paralysed him, already fearful of how he would feel if that hope had turned out to be for nothing.

Swallowing, he moved to open the card but a small square slipped through the gap and onto the floor. He bent to pick up the white square from the floor and turned it over, the image almost taking his breath away, with relief or love he couldn’t entirely be sure. It was them on that day in New York, the selfie they had taken on the boat when Stef had turned to kiss Nick’s cheek. His eyes were naturally drawn to Nick’s face, taking in the wideness of his eyes, the way his lips had parted ever so slightly, just how much he had missed that face. He hadn’t deleted it, Stef realised, his face softening into a smile. With a final look at the picture, he slipped it behind the card and opened it, both terrified and desperate to read the contents.

_Dear Stef,_

_Happy Christmas I guess. I hope this does get to you before Christmas or you’ll probably get it after the Australian Open and that would be totally awkward. Anyway, you’ve been ignoring me for two months and my mum said nobody could ignore a Christmas card so here it is._

_I miss you. Like all the time. I wake up and I watch your videos on YouTube, look at the pictures you sent me, sometimes I even talk to Libby. How insane is that? It’s cheesy af, but I’ve never felt this way before and I’m sorry that I messed it all up. I was scared and I was a dick to you and I’d give anything to take it all back. I’d come out on Rod Laver Arena right now if it meant we were together._

_I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m asking for a second chance. I want to be your boyfriend and I don’t want to hide who I am anymore. The picture is from our day in New York. I love it and take it literally everywhere with me. I guess I wanted to remind you of how good it could be. If you think you can forgive me and still want to be with me then you can give it back to me at the ATP Cup NYE gala. If you’re already over me then obviously that sucks, but I hope you have a great life and career because you deserve it._

_I love you. Always._

_Nick x_

Stef looked at the picture again, pressed the card to his chest and swallowed to try and keep the tears that were pricking at his eyes from flowing over. There were places where he could scarcely make out the handwriting and still it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever received. It had torn apart his convictions and all that was left was love.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Even by his lofty standards, Nick had done a pretty good job of fluking his way through ATP Cup practice with the impression that he had actually strung an off-season together and hadn’t spent two-thirds of it in his bedroom. Slowly but surely, his life was starting to get on track again, at least as on track as he could ever be. From the moment he paid the postage on the card and walked out of the post office, he’d felt a lightness fall on him and had started to piece himself back together. He walked his dogs, he helped his mum cook dinner, he went out for his morning coffee and if it looked like he might fall back into that dark place, his mum was there to persuade him to sit through one of her terrible rom-coms or send him out to the grocery store for an ingredient she just couldn’t go without. He’d even started practicing again, smacking down serves and playing with kids at the local club until he started to remember and almost appreciate the way he could craft the ball with his racket so effortlessly. 

But always at the back of his mind was Stef. It was bearable now, well at least less _un_bearable, but he couldn’t ever quite escape the trap of letting his mind wander back to him. He’d stopped seeking Stef out, the videos untouched since his mum had dragged him out of his room, but where he had stopped searching his mind had filled in the gaps. As his family sat down to Christmas dinner, he imagined Stef waking up and unwrapping his presents. When he giagiá would speak Greek to him, demanding to know why he had never learned the language of his family, he would imagine introducing Stef to her and seeing the pride in her face that he was honouring his heritage with a nice Greek boy. Reaching down to do his laces as he changed his shoes on court, he would find himself smiling at the memory of his birthday gift to Stef. Somehow he was always there, but he’d grown to be comfortable with that. 

What scared him was that tonight’s New Years Eve gala would pass and that he would still be alone. In the days leading up to Christmas he had dared hope that Stef would receive the card and reach out to him immediately, his hope wavering with each day that he didn’t hear his voice. He’d reasoned with himself that he’d set the date and that he had to be patient. The doubts that plagued him were only tempered by knowing that there would be hope until the calendar rolled over to 2020 and he knew for certain that Stef was over him or that they had a future together.

The wait had been agonising, more agonising knowing that they were in the same city, often the same venue, catching glimpses of Stef down a corridor or across a car park and immediately averting his eyes, his heart racing against his chest. The night had come though and there would be no more waiting, no more hanging his hopes on one night to make everything right. Just the thought of living without the hope that had become his closest companion scared him a little. He tried to lose himself in his friends, watching Demon knock back vodka as he stuck soft drinks disguised as mixers, laughing just that little bit louder at each wisecrack to keep up the pretence all while scanning the room for Stef. There were so many people: players, sponsors, coaches, officials, people who only had the loosest connection to the sport but had been enticed by a party with a free bar, so it was hard to ever be quite sure if the glimpse of curls actually confirmed Stef’s presence or not. 

A huge cheer went up as the DJ switched the track to “Down Under” and Nick rolled his eyes, so plagued by that song he had been as he walked out onto courts across the world. The rest of his team had slung their arms over each others’ shoulders and were singing words just about resembling the lyrics and beckoning him to join them. With a smile and a shake of the head, he left them to it, making a beeline for the balcony. When he reached the doors, he found them bolted shut but, with a quick look to make sure he wasn’t being watched by security, he pulled the bolt back and slipped outside into the Brisbane night. Breathing in the night air, Nick felt the bitter taint of smoke on his tongue and walked across the balcony to rest his hands on the rail and looked out across the city celebrating while their country burned around them. He sighed and looked into the river, illuminated by the skyscrapers towering over it, untouched by the devastation tearing through the country. 

“I think I have something that belongs to you.”

Nick swung around. Just like that he was there, standing before him. Hungrily, Nick took him in in his entirety: the way his suit was cut, the casualness of his right hand in his pocket, the flushed smile on his face, the way those curls were always just out of the reach of control. He wanted to smile, to show his calm, but somehow the nerves wouldn’t allow it. A month of imagining this moment and he was completely at a loss as to how to react. It wasn’t shock, the hope had been enough to never quite give up; it was all the months that had passed and the lonely uncertainty that they had left in their wake. 

Stef took the first step towards him, filling the agonising space between them, reaching into his suit pocket and taking out the photograph. He looked at it for a moment, smiling gently and then offered it to Nick. It almost seemed absurd, that this small photograph had been across the world and had now completed the reverse leg to come home, but he felt a calmness fall on him as he took it from Stef. Although he still had the picture on his phone, not being able to pull it out of his wallet and hold it in his hands had left him with a constant, nagging absence lurking in his consciousness. 

“I...Jesus, this is so much harder than I thought it was going to be,” Nick said, his mouth dry.

“You have used your words up on Libby, perhaps?” Stef asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

Nick grimaced slightly. It was the one thing he’d regretted including in the letter, opening himself up to the ridicule of it being known that he had spent his off-season talking to a soft toy, but he’d been so caught up in proving his commitment to Stef that it had somehow escaped onto the paper.

“But you saved some beautiful ones for me too,” Stef offered, “I need to know. If you meant it. All of it.”

It was Stef’s turn to look nervous, obviously wary that he would be met with the empty promises that had tainted their relationship.That lack of faith was something that he deserved, Nick knew that, but he’d had a lot of time to think and a lot of promises that he actually meant this time. 

“Every single word. You should have seen me in Canberra, I like didn’t even leave my room for two months. I don’t ever want to go back to that dark place again. Seriously. All I want is you.”

“And the rest…” Stef asked, his eyes searching.

Nick turned his head to look across the hazy skyline. Even now he felt dread settle in his stomach at the prospect of opening this up to the world, but the alternative was something he couldn’t live with anymore. It was too painful, not only feeling the absence of Stef in his life but knowing that it was a self-inflicted wound which he could so easily heal. Taking a breath, he turned back to look at Stef and slid his arms beneath the fabric of his suit jacket around Stef’s waist, pulling his body closer to him. In doing so, he had been looking to offer his assurances but was overwhelmed by just how incredible and right it felt to feel Stef's body beneath his hands again.

“I’ve talked to my mum about this a lot and we think we should get our agents together, tell them that we’re a couple and then let them sort out the complicated stuff. I mean it’s going to be like totally crazy, but that’s what they’re paid for.”

“And us?” Stef asked, rubbing his nose against Nick’s.

Nick pulled back slightly and looked into Stef’s eyes, “I need a month. Just this month, where I can focus on the bushfire relief and not have the entire Australian press asking me if I’m the top or bottom.”

Stef’s eyes widened slightly and Nick grinned, “I know. It’s like so obvious that I’m the top.”

To his relief, Stef chuckled at this comment, “So after this month?”

“After this month,” Nick confirmed.

Hearing this, Stef’s face broke out into a smile that lit up his entire face, his eyes dancing with joy. He felt almost twitchy beneath Nick’s touch, relief and excitement no doubt overcoming him. Nick moved to pull him closer to him and was met by the feel of Stef’s lips on his own. Instinctively, his lips parted, overwhelmed by the sensation of Stef’s lips engulfing his, his hand snaking through his hair to claim him. The months that they had lost were poured into that kiss, their tongues reaching searchingly into one another’s mouth as they pressed their bodies together, desperate to access every part of the other.

Eventually Stef pulled away from Nick, still caressing Nick's cheek in his hand and then tracing the lips he had just been kissing with his thumb, examining them with heavy, lust-filled eyes.

“I have missed these lips,” Stef confessed throatily.

“They’ve missed you,” Nick murmured.

Sighing, Stef dipped his head to meet Nick’s lips with his own again, causing Nick to groan involuntarily. He felt like he’d spent three months replaying every moment, every touch and every kiss they’d ever shared in his mind, but nothing compared to the reality of feeling the hot neediness of Stef’s mouth against his. Like an addict submerging himself in relapse, he pulled Stef closer, desperate to feel every contour of his mouth and body, reminding himself of everything that there had been and still was between them.

It was Stef who broke the kiss again, the breathing of both them slightly laboured by the intensity of their reunion.

“You told your mum?” Stef asked.

“Seriously, you’re asking me about my _mum_ when you could be kissing me?” 

“You told her,” Stef persisted.

“Yeah, it was her who gave me the whole Christmas card idea so I probably owe her a thanks,” Nick admitted gruffly. 

“And she was...happy?” 

“Yeah, she was,” Nick admitted softly, “Told me she thinks you’re handsome.”

At this, Stef smiled and the relief on his face was palpable. Despite his own struggles with the prospect of opening up their relationship to other people and what it would mean moving forward, this was the first time Nick had considered that the repercussions would hit Stef too. So wrapped up he had been in himself and how it would affect his life, his image, he’d forgotten how much Stef would be opening himself up and laying on the line too. For all Stef’s determination to be honest about their relationship, it would come with risk and cost for him. It was a risk that Nick realised Stef was willing to endure for _him_ and he pulled him closer, pressing his nose against his, softly reassuring him. They were going to get through this and they were going to get through this together. What they had was worth it.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get our families together in Melbourne? Like for dinner or something, tell them about us and maybe get to know each other better? I mean, like only if you want to...” Nick asked, his voice shaking ever so slightly. 

“Want to? It would mean everything to me, to know your family and for you to know mine,” Stef beamed.

“Yeah well, don’t get too excited. Your Dad will probably string me up when he finds I’m corrupting his perfect boy.”

“Maybe he tries a little, but then he will see how happy you make me.”

“And how happy is that?” Nick asked, teasingly.

“So happy that I feel I could fly across all of Brisbane,” Stef said, staring out across the skyline and smiling.

“Or you could just kiss me again,” Nick murmured.

Stef moved to do just that, Nick leaning back into him, but they were stopped in their tracks by the roar of a “TEN!” from all around the city, quickly followed by a “NINE!” and they both looked at each other and laughed. Joining in the countdown in whispered tones, the words spoken only for each other, their lips brushing against each other with each number and finally connecting as they reached “one”. 

“Happy New Year,” Stef said breathlessly.

“Happy New Year Stefanos.”

“Any resolutions?” 

“Not fucking up again. Does that count?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That counts,” Stef chuckled.

“What about you?” 

The smile on Stef’s face softened slightly into coyness, a secretive smile drawing Nick in and leaving him aching to know what it was obscuring. He reached out to trace the crease of Stef’s left cheek just to give himself something to do, anything to do to hide the slight shake in his hands and uncertainty that pricked at him, his eyes fixed on the brush of stubble leading up to his mouth.

“My resolution is that I will tell you what it is that I feel about you.”

Hearing this, his gaze was immediately drawn to Stef’s eyes, so full of softness and... Somehow it didn’t need saying and yet it was all that he desired, to hear those words from his lips. Everything, the joy and destruction of their past, the hope and uncertainty of their future, everything would be worth it for this moment where their truest selves were laid bare to one another.

“Tell me,” Nick whispered, “Say the words.”

Stef took a breath, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter's been a real journey. I've started it, left it, returned to it, scrapped it, started it again so many times. And then yesterday Stef posted Nick's phone number on Instagram and I was immediately drawn back into the chaotic cuteness that is them as a pairing and I finally finished it. 
> 
> I hope it's a satisfying conclusion. Thank you to everybody who has read this fic and to those who have taken the time to leave reviews.
> 
> Stay safe. 🌈


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